


Bullet Proof Skin

by ebineez01



Category: Scarecrow Series - Matthew Reilly
Genre: Angry Sex, Drama, M/M, Slash, Spitefic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27099931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebineez01/pseuds/ebineez01
Summary: Scarecrow is having trouble with one of his Marines, he just hopes this punishment will work...
Relationships: Shane "Scarecrow" Schofield/Paulo "Pancho" Sanchez
Comments: 10
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bastetian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bastetian/gifts).



> An unlikely pairing in Scarecrow and Sanchez, and in keeping with their canon relationship, this is rough but completely consensual. Set before Hell Island  
> Title from the song called Bullet Proof Skin by Institute  
> This is an early Christmas present for Bastetian - I hope you enjoy it 😁

Sanchez had been treading a fine line since he'd joined the unit. It's true it was a readjustment for him, he'd served under the Buck for a long time. But with half the unit now made up of new members, it was a big adjustment for everyone, and if anyone had a right to feel like the odd one out Schofield reasoned, it was Astro. He and Mother had been together for a long time, and Book II had been with them awhile now too, even though he wasn't a constant on Schofield's missions the way Mother was. And at least Sanchez had Bigfoot...and wasn't that a contrast in characters, Schofield mused. But Astro, he was fresh on the team all by himself. But where Bigfoot and Astro had slotted into the team fairly well, Sanchez had done nothing but try to rankle him from the start. And he still had no idea why. Even Bigfoot, his best friend, was getting jack of it.

But as much as he'd tried to get under Schofield's skin in the last month, he'd never deliberately disobeyed a direct order. Until now. And the Recon Commander couldn't let it go any longer. He'd doled out minor rebukes and punishments, but that obviously wasn't working, and for what Sanchez had pulled today, it wasn't enough. It had never been Schofield's style to shout, scream, rant and rave, that was much more Mother's scene, but he couldn't let his command be questioned like that in front of his other Marines. So when training had finished for the day, he'd let them go hit the showers, and then go for chow. Including Sanchez. But where the rest of the unit then had the remainder of the night off, he told Sanchez to meet him back on the training course.

He'd decided to leave his punishment until later for two reasons. He didn't need to prove a point to the other four members of his team, they respected him as it was. So for them to watch him discipline Sanchez wouldn't benefit anyone, in fact it would probably make Sanchez more hostile towards him. But the main reason was...he had no fucking clue what he was going to do with the man. Then just as he'd finished dinner, it had started to rain. Not just a nice pitter patter of drops, but a veritable deluge. And he smiled, suddenly knowing what Sanchez' punishment would be.

Schofield watched as Sanchez approached, not able to believe even in this, he was able to show his disdain for Schofield by turning up in civvies instead of Marine dress. "Hope they're not your Sunday best," he said when Sanchez stopped in front of him, receiving only a scowl in return. "You won't be needing this." He relieved him of his umbrella and raised an eyebrow when the other man seemed about to protest...it really was absolutely bucketing down...

"Well? What're you waiting for? Go! And you'd better make fucking good time!" he said as he turned towards the small shelter that sat adjacent to the field.

Sanchez stared after him, uncomprehending. "What do you mean?"

"We're at the obstacle course for a reason," Schofield shot back over his shoulder. "Run it!"

"You can't be fucking serious!" he yelled, hands on hips, already soaked to the skin since Scarecrow had taken his umbrella.

"Twice!"

"What!? It's dark and it's..."

"Pissing down," Schofield supplied. "Yes, I noticed that too."

"This is ridiculous," he said, shifting his hands to cross over his chest.

Schofield stopped but he didn't turn around. "You will do it! You will do it now! And you will do it until I tell you to fucking stop! Is that clear Sergeant Sanchez!?"

Sanchez dropped his hands and looked from Schofield to the obstacle course, which was now a complete quagmire...what he could see of it in the dark anyway. He shook his head, not believing the fucking asshole was going to make him run the course in this! "While you're going to go sit in the dry and put your fucking feet up...not like you'd be able to hack it anyway," he snarled, not bothering to try to keep his voice low.

Schofield did turn back then, walking the dozen or so steps it took to bring him back to Sanchez, crowding into the other man's space. "What did you just say?"

Sanchez looked down. "Nothing Sir," he spat through gritted teeth.

"Look at me when you talk to me Sergeant!" He waited until Sanchez complied, almost taking a step back at the look on his face. He held his ground and didn't need to work hard to inject a quiet menace into his voice. "If you've got something to say to me Pancho, then have the fucking guts to say it to my face, or keep your fucking coward mouth shut!"

"I said," Sanchez all but yelled, his eyes flashing. "That it's easy for you to send me out to do laps of the course when you're gonna be nice and dry under the shelter, but it's not like you'd be able to hack the course yourself anyway!"

Schofield nodded as he considered the other man's words. Then he dropped his umbrella. "Let's see who drops first."

Sanchez' mouth dropped open as he watched the Scarecrow take off towards the first part of the obstacle course, pooled rain and mud splashing out from under his boots in all directions.

"I'm not doing this for your entertainment Pancho!" he yelled from his position on top of the wall that formed the first obstacle.

Sanchez shook his head. The guy really was fucking crazy, doing this when he didn't have to. He sighed as he broke into a jog...the sooner he smoked the Scarecrow's ass, the sooner he could go find a fucking hot shower, he was starting to shiver already...

An hour later and Schofield was cursing Sanchez' stamina. He was soaked to the skin and absolutely filthy, but at least he wasn't cold, though he knew he would be as soon as he stopped, a freezing cold wind having blown in with the rain. He'd also had about enough of this, but he wouldn't stop before Sanchez did.

Pancho kept his head down and concentrated on the course. The first few laps had been a little perilous, he hadn't run it in the rain before, and he sure as hell hadn't run it at night. But after the first few he'd settled into a steady pace, the cold soon leaving him and the mud actually making it easier to slip under the lower obstacles. He wasn't sure how long they'd been going, but after already going through a full day of hard training he wasn't sure how much more he had in him, and fuck it if the Scarecrow didn't look as though he could keep going all night long. "Fucking energiser bunny," he muttered under his breath, deciding his big mouth had already gotten him into quite enough trouble for one day. And he had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that maybe this had finally earned the Scarecrow just a little bit of his respect. He could feel himself falling further behind, but he didn't realise how far behind until he heard the other man coming up behind him.

Schofield saw Sanchez plodding along up in front of him and he decided that lapping the guy served as well as waiting for him to drop. So when he passed him he spun around and put a hand on his chest to stop him. "When you clear the wall this time, grab the mats from under it and take 'em back to the equipment shed and then you can go."

Sanchez stared at him. "Those mats don't usually go back to the sheds."

Scarecrow paused. He was about to explain why he wanted him to do it, but that was a major part of Sanchez' problem, he always wanted to know 'why'. It was about time he learned this wasn't a democracy, and as commanding officer, Scarecrow didn't need to explain his decisions or his orders. "Maybe after another couple of laps you might be able to carry out the orders you're given. For once!" With that he turned away from Sanchez and continued on the course. "Have fun looking at my ass!" he called back over his shoulder as he pulled away from him again.

Sanchez wanted to hate him for that remark, but he couldn't seem to stop the slight quirk of his lips...it was something he would've said. When he cleared the final obstacle on the course for the second time, he saw Scarecrow leaning up against the wall in the still pouring rain waiting for him, and damn the fucker if he didn't look like he'd been standing there for a while.

He watched from the side as Sanchez cleared the wall and dropped to the other side. Then he frowned as Sanchez stood there, hands on hips seeming to contemplate something.

Sanchez debated whether to go around another couple of times, thinking that would let him disobey the Scarecrow whilst still carrying out orders at the same time. In the end he decided that was probably pretty stupid, so he stooped down to dig around the ends of the mats uncovering the handles. Managing to finally break the suction of the mud surrounding them, he began to drag them towards the equipment shed.

Schofield followed Sanchez to the store building a hundred yards away, not able to stop the small smile coming to his lips at how bedraggled the other man looked, then looking down at himself realising he was no better. He shook his head slightly, wishing he could work out why he seemed to hate him so much. He was a good Marine, and he had a feeling that if they could just work past whatever this issue was they could form a good unit. As it was, if Sanchez didn't get his shit together and start following orders when and as he gave them, he'd have no choice but to boot him from his team. That kind of shit got you killed in the field and he could not...would not, risk the lives of his other Marines because this one didn't respect the chain of command. More than a few times he'd thought Mother was about to beat the living fuck out of him because of the way he'd acted, but one look from him held her back. They'd spoken about it, and Schofield had asked her to leave it to him to sort out. As he watched him drop the mats inside the open fronted shed, he hoped this had gone some way towards that.

Sanchez was breathing hard by the time he dropped the mats, the muscles in his arms, back and thighs were screaming. And his favourite white shirt was completely fucked! "Fucking asshole," he mumbled before he spun to face Scarecrow, any grudging respect he'd begun to feel for the man quickly dissipating. "Can I go now _Sir_?" he asked, even to his own ears the honorific sounding just short of an insult.

"Depends..."

Sanchez lifted his eyes to the Scarecrow's, for the first time noticing he must've lost his glasses on the course. It was the first time he'd seen him without them and he swallowed before he regained his scowl and arched one brow in question.

"Have you learnt your lesson yet?"

Sanchez snorted. "Fuck you," he breathed.

And that was when Shane Schofield officially lost it. He grabbed the other man and propelled him backwards, pushing him into the brick wall at the back of the shed. "What's your fucking problem!?" he growled, his face only inches from Pancho's.

"You!" Sanchez yelled back. "You're not a fraction of the leader that the Buck was and everyone acts like you're the second fucking coming! Well fuck that! I'm not gonna fawn all over you like some fucking puppy, I'll leave that to Astro!"

Schofield was taken aback. "I never asked you to do _whatever_ _the fuck it was_ you just said!" he yelled. "I just want you to follow my fucking orders like a normal fucking Marine!"

Sanchez glared at him before moving to push past him and get the fuck out of there.

Schofield's usual calm demeanour had already well and truly fled, and he grabbed out blindly seizing Sanchez by the arm and throwing him back into the wall. "You will stay where you are until I tell you you can go!"

"Fuck you!" he snarled, not bothering to say it under his breath this time, _wanting_ the other man to hear it.

Schofield didn't even know who threw the first punch, but the fight that ensued was hard, it was fast and it was fucking ugly. There was no technique, just a street brawl fuelled by absolute rage. Rage from Sanchez for losing a unit he'd loved and then been cast out of to land with a new commander he had no faith in and no respect for. Rage from Schofield against a cocky fucking snot rag who had been around long enough to not be acting like a spoilt fucking princess, who wouldn't respond to _anything_ reasonably, and now left him wanting to knock his fucking head off.

Sanchez felt his jaw crack as Schofield's fist plowed into the side of his head, but he smiled through that pain at the satisfaction of hearing the other man's loud exhalation of air as his knee connected with his gut.

Schofield felt his eyebrow split wide open, sure he also felt one of Sanchez' knuckles pop when his hand collided with his eye.

Although Sanchez was slightly larger, Schofield was stronger and he soon had him pinned against the rough brick wall, both of them breathing heavily and looking like they'd literally been chewed up and spat back out again. He had his right foot forward leaning all his weight into the hold, his left foot back and spread wide to help brace his position, his hands gripping Pancho's biceps, the other man's arms circling his, his hands clenched in the collar of Schofield's shirt.

Sanchez was furious that the Scarecrow had got the better of him and now the fucker refused to let him go, pressing himself harder against him every time he so much as flinched.

Schofield stared the younger man down, not underestimating him for a second, taking in the dangerous glint in his eye and the flare of his nostrils as his chest heaved under Schofield's weight. He kept his peripheral vision alerted to any movement in Pancho's shoulders, any strike he was planning would have to originate there.

"Your loyalty's admirable Pancho," Schofield panted. "But I won't apologise for being who I am, and I'm not the Buck..."

Then suddenly after what seemed an interminable stalemate, Sanchez' lips parted and his eyes dropped...even though this could've been taken as a sign Sanchez was about to surrender, Schofield hesitated in releasing his grip.

"No...you're not," Sanchez breathed.

Then he saw it...both Pancho's shoulders moved at once and he knew that in their current position, there was only one move that could precursor, and he couldn't believe the fucking bastard was actually planning to headbutt him! He braced, but it never came. What _did_ eventuate shocked him more than any act of violence ever could have, as Sanchez' mouth crashed onto his, teeth splitting his bottom lip making him taste blood. And for a split second, the only reaction he had was a purely visceral one as his hand moved to wrench at Pancho's hair, his cock hardening in an instant. Seconds passed where they struggled against each other, this time for an entirely different reason, before Schofield realised what was happening and he pushed away, staring at the other man.

The look in Pancho's eyes was almost feral as his chest heaved, his entire body seeming to gasp for breath.

Schofield wiped a hand across his mouth then spat blood onto the muddied mat beside him. "The fuck was that!?" he demanded, his voice low.

"I'm no fucking queer," Sanchez sneered as if it had been Schofield who'd kissed him and not the other way around.

"Neither am I," he replied finally, but as much as his higher brain functions were trying to take over now their fight had ended, his cock was still rock hard and right now, as he stared at his fellow Marine, his fellow _male_ Marine...all Schofield cared about was getting that release, and he really couldn't give a fuck how he got it.

Even though Scarecrow no longer touched him, Sanchez was still pinned to the wall, this time by the other man's intense blue gaze. His fingers tried to dig into the solid wall behind him, as something he couldn't identify burned in his gut and made his cock throb.

Schofield's eyes dropped to find the other man in a similar state of arousal and his cock jumped at the sight. Then his eyes came back up to Pancho's as his hands moved to his belt.

"I told you...I'm not..." Sanchez choked out as Scarecrow moved towards him.

"I heard you the first time," Schofield breathed as he stepped right into Sanchez' personal space.

Sanchez half heartedly tried to push past Scarecrow, but didn't resist as his commanding officer pushed him back into the wall. He really didn't want to resist, he was so torqued up, so fucking hard and all he wanted to do was _fuck something_... _anything_...

"You started this fucked up shit!" Schofield growled in his ear.

Sanchez' eyes dropped and he couldn't stop the groan that came from seeing the matching bulges in their pants now less than an inch apart. He reached out and gripped Scarecrow's hips, pulling him forward..."Fuck!" he ground out, and then the Scarecrow's mouth was on his.

Teeth clashed, tongues fought for dominance and both of them tasted blood as skin split. It was as rough and erratic as their fight had been.

"This still doesn't mean..." Sanchez ground out, as he ripped open the Scarecrow's pants.

"I know," Schofield panted, as his hand pushed into Pancho's jeans to close around his throbbing cock.

Sanchez was getting so fucking desperate...he pulled at the button of his jeans and dropped the zipper, hastily pushing them and his underwear down his thighs watching as Scarecrow did the same.

Then they just stood there, inches apart and breathing heavily for an awkward lust filled moment, each staring at the other. Until Schofield spat in his hand and brought it back down to wrap firmly around his own erection.

Sanchez felt a jolt run through him at the sight and he held out his hand to Schofield, seconds later coating his rigid cock with the other man's spit. As he stroked himself he reached out a hand to fist in the fabric of Scarecrow's shirt.

Schofield let himself fall forward, his left forearm braced on the wall next to Pancho's head, his forehead just shy of resting against the other man's shoulder.

The shift in position brought their bodies closer, their hands bumping against each other as they worked themselves.

Then, the same as when the fight started, Schofield didn't know who had pushed the others hand away first as he found his hand wrapped tightly around Sanchez while he fucked into the other man's fist. His left hand moved into Sanchez' hair, his fingers gripping hard, holding his head as he took his mouth, then he felt strong fingers grip the short hair at the back of his own head forcing them together more firmly, teeth biting painfully into his lip and he growled.

God how he wanted to spin Pancho to face the wall and push himself deep inside him, but that was never gonna happen whether the other man wanted it or not. There were some lines he wasn't willing to cross. Still, the thought of it made him groan and he clamped his hand tighter on Sanchez' cock and felt his balls tighten as he lost it for the second time that night.

The increase in pressure and the feel of Scarecrow's hot thick cum on his hand, his cock still pulsing beneath his fingers was too much for Sanchez and he shot his own load down the front of Scarecrow's thighs. He sagged against the wall behind him, Scarecrow half collapsed on top of him as they both struggled for breath.

They both seemed to come to their senses at the same time, Schofield stepping back as Sanchez straightened. Then came an awkward silence, even their loud breathing having come back under control, as they righted filthy, soaked clothing.

Neither looked at the other as, by unspoken agreement, they made their separate ways back towards the barracks, Sanchez going via the general showers, Schofield opting for the officers shower block.

As he let the hot spray wash away the sweat, the blood and the mud...refusing to even acknowledge the presence of any other bodily fluids that were present...he knew that a psychologist or a psychiatrist or a psych-something would likely have a perfectly logical explanation for what had just happened between them. Something to do with alpha males and displays of dominance, or the 'I wanna fight it' and the 'I wanna fuck it' endorphins being basically the same...he didn't really care. He just hoped that his Sergeant would keep his nose clean from now on...he wasn't sure he could handle a repeat performance...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided I just couldn’t leave this one alone. Enjoy 🙂

"Don't even think about it."

Sanchez started at the sound of Mother's voice so close. He turned his head to glance at her. "Huh?"

She nodded towards Scarecrow. "You've been looking at him funny since he reamed your ass the other night, so whatever bullshit you got planned...forget it!"

He stared at her and swallowed, feeling a prickling heat creep up his throat. Is that what the bastard told her had happened? He crossed his arms over his chest deciding to feign ignorance. "I don't know what you mean!"

Mother looked at him askance. "I _mean_...you were an asshole the other day and you got in shit for it the other night..."

He let out a breath. "Right, yeah. You're right, I was an asshole."

Now she frowned and reached out a hand to his forehead. "You sick or something?"

He tried to scowl, but couldn't help the small smile that came instead as he gently pushed her hand away. Completely in opposition to his opinion of Scarecrow, Sanchez had a huge amount of respect for Mother Newman, mixed with a healthy amount of fear. "Not sick, no," he replied. Then he shrugged as he looked at his boots. "But maybe I was thinking, it was about time to cut the guy some slack." When she didn't say anything he looked up into her broadly grinning face.

"I knew he'd rub off on you eventually!"

"I wouldn't say he..." He shifted uncomfortably at the thought of the Scarecrow 'rubbing off on him'. He shook his head trying to clear it. Random thoughts like that kept creeping into his mind lately and he couldn't seem to keep them at bay. But he kept telling himself it didn't mean anything. It was just one of those things that happen sometimes when a lot of guys get thrown together under stressful circumstances and there weren't many women around. Like being in the Navy, he reasoned. All those guys weren't homos, but after being at sea for six months, they just did what they needed to do. Marines too he'd heard, when they'd been stationed on board ships or submarines.

"Look at the guy!" she said, breaking into his train of thought as she grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him to face their CO, where he was patiently trying to teach Astro a hand-to-hand move he'd been having trouble with. "He can be tough, but he's fair. And he's all about looking after us."

Sanchez considered her words as he watched Scarecrow, his eyes drawn to the hard planes of his body as he moved. He shifted, feeling his body respond to the sight. _Face it man, you ain't so hard up for a woman! You're living on a base in the Continental United States for fucks sake! So how does wanting to fuck your CO_ not _make you at least a_ little _gay..._ His stomach clenched at the realisation. He had other, _normal_ options. But he still wanted the Scarecrow...craved him...thought about him constantly...

Her hands still on his shoulders, she grinned and leaned in close to his ear. "And he's pretty easy on the eyes too!"

He shot her an alarmed look. "I'll take your word for it."

She laughed and clapped him on the back.

Sanchez turned back to her then, a thought occurring to him.

"What?" she asked.

"Is there something between you two?"

Mother was momentarily stunned. "What?"

He smiled. "Come on Mother," he said. "You two are closer than close, and you don't exactly make a secret of how much you're attracted to him."

"Not that it's any of your business," she replied. "But no. There is nothing between us besides a very close friendship. As in he's my best friend."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

She sighed. "You know it'd be against frat regs. If I really had the hots for the guy I wouldn't be shooting my mouth off about it all the time would I?"

He had to admit, that actually made sense. Although, there was also such a thing as hiding in plain sight. As she walked away he turned back to the Scarecrow, to find his eyes on him and his heart rate ratcheted up several notches. When the other man gave him a slight smile it rocketed up into the stratosphere. _Jesus fucking Christ Sanchez, you're not fucking queer at all are you..._

As much as he'd always tried to deny it, told himself that those occasional impulses he'd had to just lean forward and kiss a guy he was standing close to were normal for a completely straight guy... _we've been on a mission for two months...I haven't been laid in forever...there's a girl who works at the enlisted bar whose pants I wanna get into and_ she's _the reason I'm so hard right now, it's certainly not because my CO just took his shirt off..._ that line of thought just wasn’t gonna cut it anymore in the face of what he was obviously feeling about Scarecrow. He needed to man up and own it! And suddenly, he found he wasn’t as devastated by admitting he might just get hard for guys too as he thought he would be...

And as he had that thought, his focus returning to Scarecrow and Astro, both men nodded and took a step back, shirts getting thrown aside on a particularly humid Carolina day, stripping down to just their combat fatigues and boots. And it was certainly no girl down at the enlisted bar that made him suddenly hard as a rock when Scarecrow dodged Astro's carefully planned move, throwing a foot out to trip him at the same time as he spun to come around behind him. A move that had them both crashing to the thick grass, Astro on his stomach, Scarecrow sprawled on top of him pinning him to the ground...both of them half naked...he watched as the Scarecrow stretched out his arms to grip Astro's outstretched hands in his, his bare chest now flush against Astro's back, his hips pushing into the younger man's ass as his movement caused him to arch up a little...he let out a low groan, trying to swallow the enormous lump that had just formed in his throat, nearly as big as the one that had formed in his pants...

"You say something?" Bigfoot asked as he came up beside him.

"What!? No!" he replied as he turned his body away from his friend hoping to hide hide his current predicament.

Bigfoot shrugged, not sure why Sanchez was out here watching the guys practice, but he had other things to do. "You coming?"

Sanchez glanced at him briefly. "Ah no, I'll catch up with you later."

"Okay, see you later Pancho."

Sanchez nodded absently, his attention already back on the two men on the ground as Astro wriggled around under Scarecrow trying to get free. An image of it being him underneath Schofield right now instead of Astro bursting forth. An eyebrow quirked at the idea of faking not being able to complete some move so he could have this type of contact with his CO, but then he knew that wouldn't work, he'd already proven he was more than proficient at all these drills.

He sighed, deciding that maybe if he finally pulled his head out of his ass and did things right, the Scarecrow might want to spend more time with him because he actually liked him.

Over the next few weeks everyone in the unit noticed quite a change in Sanchez as far as his snarky behaviour was concerned. He didn't fall all over himself to do as Scarecrow ordered like Astro, but he didn't treat every order with contempt by back talking and dragging his ass like a hormonal teenager either, and everyone settled in to a much more cohesive unit.

xxxxxxx

Scarecrow was pleased with the way his team had been performing lately, so he gave them an early mark telling them he'd finish clearing up after their training exercises. He finished squaring away the last of the equipment, and turned to find Sanchez standing in the doorway. He looked at the other man a moment before he spoke. "What are you doing here? I told you guys I'd finish up."

Sanchez shrugged as he shifted, having trouble standing still.

Schofield stared at him. "Spit it out Marine, I've got shit to do so I'm not keen on spending the next few hours in here waiting for you to decide to speak..."

"You haven't said anything about how I've been acting the last few weeks," he blurted out, reaching out to play with the corner of a gear bag. "I just...I guess I thought you would've said something."

Schofield looked at him quizzically. "Like what?"

Sanchez stopped fidgeting and looked at him then. "I don't know," he said, his voice a little edgier. "Maybe something like 'good job'?”

Schofield snorted. "You want me to _thank you_ for following orders and doing your fucking job!?" He shook his head. "You really are unbelievable!"

Sanchez stood straighter, his eyes narrowing. "I'm unbelievable?"

They stared at each other for a long moment before Sanchez turned and walked away without another word.

Schofield just stared after him, letting out a breath as he watched the younger man walk away. He considered Sanchez' words for a moment, maybe he should've given him some praise or some sort of encouragement, but that train of thought didn't last long as he shook his head and turned out the light as he left. Why should he give Sanchez credit for _not_ being an asshole when everyone else seemed to manage just fine.

The next week saw Sanchez slide down a slippery slope into insubordination once again. He was sullen, snarky and just generally a fucking prick. Even Bigfoot was giving him a wide berth.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Mother demanded one afternoon when Sanchez' behaviour had earned them all an extra half hour crawling in the mud.

"Nothing," he replied, his voice low.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the shirt. "Don't give me that shit! The last few weeks have been great! We were actually a fucking team and now you're fucking it all up again by being a little bitch! What happened to 'it's time to cut the guy some slack'?"

"Let me go Mother," he said staring up at her.

The corner of her mouth lifted as she looked at him, amused that he seemed to actually be seriously considering hitting her.

"Mother!" Scarecrow called when he saw the two of them squaring off.

She looked over at him. "Boss?"

"Thanks, I'll take it from here."

Mother gave Sanchez one more look before she let him go with a shove that had him stumbling back a few steps, and headed off to the showers.

Scarecrow waited for her to leave before he made his way over to Sanchez. "So?"

"So what?" Sanchez asked, raising his chin defiantly.

"Has this past week been some kind of a hissy fit, cause I didn't pat you on the head and tell you what a good boy you've been?"

Sanchez snorted and shook his head. "Don't flatter yourself! Your opinion really doesn't mean that much to me."

Scarecrow nodded. "Go! Get out of my sight!" As Sanchez turned, he yelled out to him. "I want you back here at 20:30 hours."

Sanchez didn't turn back, didn't give any indication that he'd heard the order, or that he had any intention of obeying it. He just kept walking, a smile spreading slowly across his face. If he couldn't get the Scarecrow alone by being good, then it looked like he was just going to have to keep being bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one, I hope you enjoy 🙂

Sanchez was sitting on the grass, his back against the fence that separated the field from the running track. He looked at his watch. It was getting close to 21:00 hours and Scarecrow still hadn't shown. He was considering whether or not to leave when he heard the gate in the outer fence behind him bang closed. He didn't turn around as he heard the crunch of the Scarecrow's boots on the fine gravel that layered the track, he also didn't get up. He smiled when he heard Scarecrow come to a stop briefly before he started moving again, his footsteps bringing him closer. Sanchez had purposely positioned himself along the fence a hundred feet or so from the gate for two reasons. Firstly, he knew it would piss Scarecrow off no end that he had to come to him. Secondly, this spot was directly in between two of the giant floodlights, meaning that he was in the shadowy area between where the two beams fell. He kept his eyes lowered until he saw the Scarecrows boots come to a stop in front of him.

The time it took for Schofield to walk from the gate to the place where Sanchez was waiting had allowed him to develop a simmering temper. The fact that the man didn't stand or even look up at him as he approached ratcheted it up to a low boil. The look on his face when he did eventually deign to glance up made it more of a roiling boil. "Get up!" he growled, his voice low, menacing.

Sanchez sighed and pushed himself to his feet, but did nothing to take the slouch out of his stance. If he could've seen Schofield's eyes behind his reflective wraparound glasses he may have thought twice about pushing him so hard. Scarecrow stepped forward so suddenly Sanchez took an involuntary step backwards, cursing himself as his back hit the fence.

"You will stand to attention when I talk to you, unless I tell you otherwise. Do you understand Marine?" His voice was quiet, calm.

Sanchez didn't answer.

"Do you understand!?" Scarecrow roared right in the other man's ear.

Sanchez flinched, cursing himself for the second time in as many minutes. But he stood to attention and ground out a reply. "Yes. Sir!"

"You've got a fucking smart mouth on you sergeant, one that got not only yourself but your whole team in trouble today, and that will not do," Schofield said, his voice calm once more. "The team got an extra half hour in the mud this afternoon because of you, now you get your very own, extra special, just for you, extra hour in that very same mud. Now move. I'll tell you when to stop."

Sanchez had kept his eyes front and centre while Scarecrow was talking, which was hard to do when he was standing so close to him. Now he was finished talking, had ordered him to go do the mud course for an hour, but he still hadn't stepped back out of his personal space. Some of his bravado, his arrogance returned and he was sure he knew what the other man wanted. So he moved, as he was ordered to do.

Before Scarecrow knew what was happening the other man's mouth was on his, pressing hard. It was like having a seriously fucked up case of déjà Vu. "What the fuck are you doing!?" he spat as he pushed him away, but they were already against the fence so it didn't really result in much of a change in their positions.

"I've heard that before Scarecrow," he said, reminding him of their interlude weeks earlier. "So cut the crap! We both know why we're here and it's got nothing to do with me crawling around in the mud for the next hour."

Then Sanchez' hand was on him through his pants, grabbing him hard and rough. And Sanchez got to experience first hand that hand-to-hand combat move Astro was having so much trouble perfecting last week.

He shook his head and looked up at Scarecrow standing above him.

"Take your punishment like a Marine and do your fucking hour in the mud!" he growled. "I can't be around you right now, so I'm going home, but you'd better believe that if you do not do that hour to the second I will know. And you will not like the consequences." With that he stalked off and didn't look back.

The back of Sanchez' head hit the ground and he stared up at the sky. He lay there for a full five minutes trying to get his breathing under control. " _Fuck!_ " he yelled at the top of his lungs, before he got to his feet and headed for the mud.

xxxxxxx

Astro rolled over when he heard someone come into the room. This late at night it would only be one person. He watched Sergeant Sanchez cross the room and drop onto the bunk next to his. "How did it go?" he whispered.

Sanchez glanced over to him. "It was punishment Astro, how do you think it went?" he replied, also keeping his voice low so as not to disturb their roommates.

Astro rolled onto his stomach and pulled his pillow under him to better see Pancho. "What'd he get you to do this time?"

"Had to do the mud run for an hour."

"Oh well, at least that's not as bad as what happened last time."

"Yeah," he said absently, as his mind filled with images of what did happen last time. He stifled the groan that he knew he couldn't let escape right now. Just another thing to add to his very long list of 'This is so fucked up...'

Astro hesitated. "Why do you hate him so much?"

"I don't hate him."

"Sure seems like you do."

"I know," he murmured.

And he did know. He knew exactly why he hated him so much. At first he hated him because he wasn't the Buck. What he'd said to him three weeks ago in that equipment shed had been the truth. But then some of that initial hatred had started to fade and he'd started to see the Scarecrow, to notice him in ways he really didn't want to. And so he hated him for that instead. For making him want things he didn't _want_ to want, to feel things he didn't _want_ to feel. And three weeks ago, it had all come to a head, and he couldn't deny it anymore. The fact that he wanted the Scarecrow. And not because there _was_ no other option, but because Scarecrow _was_ the option. And now he hated him, not because he'd forced him to face something about himself he really didn't want to, but that he'd forced him to face it...and then rejected him for it. And he'd still not said one fucking word about what had happened between them. "This is fucking bullshit!" he mumbled.

"Hey, where you goin'?" Astro asked.

"Go back to sleep kid," Sanchez said as he made for the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed 🙂


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